


The Hands That Wrote Those Words

by Beleriandings



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bad Poetry, Love Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 11:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1938480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maedhros gets a painful knock on the head, and learns something about Fingon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Hands That Wrote Those Words

It was by a somewhat painful accident that Maitimo acquired the letters. 

It was, in fact, on the summons of another letter that it began. A small rolled piece of paper bearing only the words " _Supplies of copper running dangerously low in Tirion. -F._ "

And thus it was that Maitimo took the road to Tirion that very morning, at a little more than a walk and a little less than a run. When he reached the house of Ñolofinwë, Findekáno welcomed him with a smile and a hand around his waist, dragging him into an alcove and kissing him until he was breathless and trembling in his arms.

"Maitimo. Thank the Valar you’re here. I was alone in the house…" his mouth curved into a devious smile "…and most dreadfully bored."

"How could I possibly have refused?"

After a surprisingly short time they had made their halting, clumsy way up the stairs to Findekáno’s room whilst half entangled in each other’s arms, restless hands moving beneath clothes. 

At last Maitimo found himself kicking closed the door of Findekáno’s room behind them. But before he could lift Findekáno and throw him down on the bed, for once without having to heed every sound they made, his younger cousin was seizing his arms and slamming him backwards against the side of the bookcase, their lips colliding in a hard, demanding kiss. 

"Ah, Fin…" he let out a little gasp, smiling as Findekáno kissed his throat, his teeth sinking a little into the soft flesh. "You are hungry today, aren’t you?"

Findekáno’s voice was urgent. “For you, always.”

Findekáno’s hands were in his hair now, and Maitimo pulled him closer, grinding their hips together. Findekáno responded in kind, pressing Maitimo’s back against the bookcase…

And then, suddenly, Maitimo was crying out as something large and heavy was striking him on the head from above, pain exploding behind his eyes even as instinctively he leaned forward to shield Findekáno. The last thing he remembered was their hair, red and black shot with gold, tangling together in the air, and, oddly, a flurry of paper. But it lasted for only an instant before the world went black.

———-

The first thing Maitimo saw as he opened his eyes the merest sliver was a hand, blurring into focus, filling most of his vision. His head throbbed unpleasantly, and even the fading light of Laurelin hurt his eyes. 

"Maitimo?"

Findekáno’s voice exploded into his consciousness, sharp and bright and filled with concern. Suddenly memory was beginning to return, and Findekáno’s face was swimming into sharp focus, his eyes wide with worry. He was placing a cold compress to Maitimo’s forehead, but Maitimo could feel something else there too. A thick bandage wrapped his head, and the pain in his skull seemed to be radiating from a spot at his hairline, a little to one side. 

Findekáno was frowning. “Maitimo… are you alright? Say something!”

"I… uhhh… Fin, what happened?"

Findekáno flushed with relief, but was still solicitous as he helped Maitimo to sit up. He was lying in Findekáno’s bed, he realised, while its owner sat atop the covers at his side, with his legs crossed. 

"What happened?" said Maitimo again, a little louder. 

"A box… fell off the top of the bookcase. On your head" muttered Findekáno apologetically, his face pained. "Quite a heavy one too." He wrapped his arms around Maitimo’s shoulders. "I am so sorry my love. This is my fault and I feel awful."

Maitimo’s head hurt, but it stabbed at him even more to see Findekáno with tears glimmering in his eyes. He kissed him high on his cheekbone. “I suppose we should both have been more careful. But I am not badly hurt.”

Findekáno looked alarmed. “Your head was bleeding where the corner of the box hit it. You’ll have a bruise, I think, a big one…” he grimaced. “I was just thinking of finding a healer actually…”

"No! No, Fin. I will be fine, honestly." He grinned lopsidedly, trying to make Findekáno smile along with him. "Well, I set out to end up in your bed today, and I suppose in that sense at least I succeeded."

Findekáno let out a grudging little laugh, but did not appear reassured. Maitimo continued blithely. ”You’ve done an admirable job patching me up.” He touched the tender spot through the bandages and could not help but wince, causing Findekáno to open his mouth to speak once more. “What was in the box then?” said Maitimo hastily, thinking to change the subject. “With what did my head lose its fight?” He looked over to the floor where the heavy, varnished hardwood box still lay, its lid half off, spilling papers onto the ground. All were thickly scrawled with writing, and some bore evidence of having been crumpled or rolled tightly before being flattened out again. 

To Maitimo’s surprise, Findekáno began to blush furiously, getting up and gathering the papers in his arms, stuffing them back into the box. “Nothing” he said hastily, “some papers. From when I was younger. That’s all.”

Maitimo’s interest was piqued. “What papers, Fin?” he asked, trying to grasp at one that had fluttered onto the bed. He had enough to time to recognise Findekáno’s round, even, handwriting before it was snatched away from him. 

Findekáno muttered something unintelligible.

"What?"

"Something I wrote once. It doesn’t matter anymore." The blush had spread all the way to the tips of his ears now.

Summoning his strength, Maitimo got shakily up from the bed and picked up one of the papers that Findekáno had dropped. It appeared to be a letter, or a draft of one, for there were many crossings out in the text, some so forceful that the pen appeared to have gone through the paper.

“ _Dear Maitimo_ " he read aloud. " _I want you to know that I love you. For me there will never be any other. There, I have said it. You drive me halfway to madness, my love. You may not think me sinful yet, but you are sure to when you hear the things I want to do to you, the dreams I have when…_ " Maitimo tailed off, for here the text was illegible, scored over in obvious, violent frustration. Maitimo looked at the date on the letter. "Findekáno…" he looked at Findekáno who was carefully studying the ground, looking as though he were in intense pain. "Are these letters… to me…? From before - "

"Before I realised that you shared my feelings, yes" said Findekáno, looking up at him, something that was almost defiance in his gaze. Then he groaned, looking down again. "There’s some truly terrible poetry in there too if I remember rightly. I should have burned them all long ago, but I hadn’t the heart."

"I had the same sorts of thoughts about you, you know. But I never wrote them down." Maitimo gave a bitter laugh. "You had the better of it. I was in denial for far too long. It was torture, I hope you know that."

"I wrote those things down to stop them slipping out of my mouth at family dinners" said Findekáno, with a hint of a smile. "And so that I wouldn’t do anything… ill advised."

Maitimo smiled, his heart suddenly filling with affection. He took hold of Findekáno’s chin and lifted it so that their eyes met once again. Their kiss was slow and sweet. “I love you so much, embarrassing letters and all. I’m sorry if I upset you… I was just curious, I promise.”

Findekáno drew back and gave him a long look. “Oh go on then, I suppose you’d better have the letters.” Hastily he shoved a pile of them at Maitimo, not looking at him. “I say nothing there that I do not mean. Just… don’t think me a silly sentimental child? Please?”

Maitimo leaned forward and kissed him on the top of the head. He had hardly ever seen Findekáno this self-conscious before. “Never, sweet Fin.”

————

Maitimo sat down to read the letters under the tree in the garden that same evening, away from the windows from which parents or brothers may chance to look. He picked out a letter at random from a small bundle he had folded carefully into his pocket, making sure the box was safely locked away in his cupboard. He began to read.

 _ ~~Beloved,  
~~ Maitimo,_  
 _My courage has still not grown enough to send you any of these letters. I think every day of_ ~~taking you in my arms and kissing you~~  telling you of my feelings, but I am a coward, dear one, not worthy of the epithet “the valiant”, not by any measure. I want

 And there the letter stopped. Maitimo took another from the pile.

_Hair like copper, starlight eyes,_   
_You are my world, my love_   
_Yet even so I tell you lies_   
_~~About how much I love~~_

This last line was aggressively crossed out and accompanied by the marginal note  _DON’T RHYME LOVE WITH LOVE._  Maitimo could not help but smile. He turned to the next paper, which had a large cross through its text and had been crumpled and flattened out again, although it could still be read.

_If you were mine I would be gentle with you, for you would be the most precious thing I had. I would hold you like you might melt away in my hands (for it could not last, surely I would lose you too soon) and I would kiss every bit of your bright skin, every freckle, and then do it all over again. I would drink you in, run my fingers through your hair and down your spine and across your beautiful chest, and you would tremble under my touch and make me hard. I would kiss your warm lips, and press our bodies close, your hands on my skin, driving me wild. I would slip down and take you in my mouth. I long to taste you, my love. And then you would_

The letter stopped there. There was no more. Maitimo realised that his mouth was hanging slightly open, and promptly shut it again, feeling foolish. Heat was creeping up his neck and he realised he was partially aroused, hastily drawing his knees up under his chin in case anyone came to find him. He thought of Findekáno’s desperate hands writing these words, alone in his locked room while he himself had lusted after his cousin just as ardently. 

He almost laughed, suddenly feeling lucky all over again to have Findekáno return his feelings, longing to be at his side there and then. He glanced up at the house, and then at the sky to judge the time, and see whether he had time to get to Findekáno’s house and back before he was missed. 


End file.
